Ms von Karma's Surprise
by EvilMarshmallow13
Summary: April Fools Day never did go over so well with Franziska von Karma. This year's no different. \\No pairings. Massive amounts of Gumshoe abuse.\\
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**-Franziska von Karma, Detective Gumshoe, and just Phoenix Wright in general don't belong to me and are being used here without permission.

**A/N**-This is a simple oneshot that I wrote out of curiosity. It's an interesting concept…perhaps explaining what would happen if anyone dared to "mock" Franziska? Oh, by the way, this takes place after the second case but before the third in JFA, but since it's completely off the timeline, there aren't any spoilers (unless you didn't know who Franziska von Karma is…) Also, this is NOT a Gumshoe/Franziska romance oneshot. In fact, it might be anti G/F (if you think about it).

Ms.von Karma's Surprise

**April 1****, 10:30 AM**

**Criminal Affairs Dept.**

Franziska von Karma stormed through the Criminal Affairs department, heading for Detective Gumshoe's desk. She was absolutely livid. The detective was supposed to deliver a report over to her office 20 minutes ago, but he never showed up. When she got to Gumshoe's desk, she found him on the computer.

"Detective!" She shouted. He turned to look at his boss, calm as one could be around Franziska. This, of course, only made her angrier.

"You fool! You foolishly didn't deliver that foolishly foolish report to me! What could a fool like you be foolishly doing?!? Being a foolish fool on your foolish computer? Bah! Where is the foolish report?" She scanned the detective's desk for the elusive report. When she found it, she reached to get it, but right by the report was a truly odd item-one that didn't belong on Gumshoe's desk at all.

A whip.

"_What...a...a whip on his desk? That's not mine...it's still in my hand…so that means…"_ Then the young prosecutor realized exactly what it meant. She was being mocked. She, Franziska von Karma, was being made a fool of. When this thought struck her, something snapped. A vital piece of her brain that kept her rational just seemed to disappear.

Meanwhile, Detective Gumshoe saw his boss' priceless expression, and started to chuckle. "Ah, Ms.von Karma, you've noticed my new whip!" The chuckle was becoming louder, and Franziska was starting to twitch. "After seeing yours in action-" The detective paused to chuckle to himself, then continued-"I decided to get one!" He could barely continue without bursting out in laughter, but was able to hold it in for one last line.

"April Fools, Ms.von Karma!"

At this point, Detective Gumshoe started to laugh uncontrollably. Unfortunately, as he was laughing uncontrollably, he hadn't noticed that his boss (who wasn't taking the joke as well as him) was now shaking. Some of the detectives that had been passing by the roaring detective's desk felt that dangerous aura that meant someone was about to be whipped, and hurried out of range before they became the victim. Franziska stopped glaring at the desk (as she had been during his explanation) and turned her death glare onto Gumshoe, who didn't notice it because he was leaning back in his chair laughing so hard. Finally, after this 10 minute explanation/laughing session, she spoke.

"FOOL!" She roared, and started whipping the detective savagely. His laugher turned to yelps of pain, and he tried to block the whips with his arms. This failed, and instead ended up having Franziska whip him longer and harder. Eventually, Gumshoe passed out. Franziska then dropped her whip, slapped the unconscious detective across the face, snatched the report off his desk, grabbed a whip, and stormed off, muttering something about disrespectful foolish fools.

**April 1, 5:30 PM**

**Detective Gumshoe's Apartment**

**Living Room**

As Detective Gumshoe put some ice on his welts and sat down, he sighed. He should have seen this one coming-after all, you can't insult a von Karma and expect them to laugh it off. Still…it was funny seeing the look on Ms.von Karma's face. That was priceless-an incredibly camera-worthy shot. Luckily, he hadn't brought a camera to take a picture like he wanted to. If he had, he would've been killed for sure. Suddenly, the detective started laughing. It wasn't as if he wanted to-laughing made the pain worse. But he couldn't help it. After all, his "joke" was hilarious, but what happened afterwards was a riot. He was submerged in a flashback to earlier that day, after the whipping.

_He came to after the beating, and was on the floor. Something brown caught his eye, so he looked up-and saw a whip on the floor. He picked it up and studied it, thinking it was his, until he saw the initials on the handle-_F.v.K_. In a momentary stroke of genius (for him), he realized that Ms.von Karma must have dropped it after his whipping, and instead, took his._

As his flashback ended and he was again in his house, he started laughing uncontrollably. After all, his boss had taken his $5.00 plastic whip that he bought at the costume store instead of her top of the line, super expensive leather one. As he was laughing, he wondered what Ms.von Karma would do when she found out about the mix-up. The detective could only guess that it wouldn't be pretty.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**A/N**-Ok! Please R&R, as this is my first story and I would like some feedback on it (no flames, preferably). It turned out more serious than I thought it would be, but there's still some humor, I think.


	2. Chapter 2

**April 2****nd****, 9:03 AM**

**Criminal Affairs Dept.**

**Det. Gumshoe's desk**

As Detective Gumshoe sat down at his desk, he noticed a large, brown envelope placed precariously on top of the rest of his cluttered desk. The recipient's name was scrawled across the top, as well as a message-

To: Ms. Franziska von Karma

Enclosed: Request for Paid Transportation Forms (family, subordinates)

TO BE DELIVERED IMMEDIATELY

The color drained out of his face as the realization of what the price of his "little joke" yesterday finally sunk in. Torture scenes involving him, Franziska, and a whip flashed through his mind as his breathing grew faster. Almost subconsciously, his hand moved to the leather whip that was safely tucked away in his coat pocket.

"_One way or another, this is going to have to be returned to Ms. Von Karma…"_ The detective thought fearfully. The only choice he had in the matter was how it would be done. As he looked around him, an idea popped into his head. Couldn't he just find someone else to deliver the envelope and whip to Franziska?

The thought of not having to come in contact with his enraged boss immediately filled him with relief, until the fact that everyone in the department would know about the incident yesterday hit him. After all, Franziska hadn't quietly whipping him. Or whispering what a foolishly foolish fool he was. So, letting out an anxious sigh, the detective got up to face his punishment.

**April 2****nd****, 9:21 AM**

**Prosecutors Office**

**Outside Ms. Von Karma's office**

As Gumshoe stood in front of the polished wooden door listening to the elevator music playing in the luxurious hallway, he started to tremble slightly. Getting whipped unconscious one time was unpleasant and expensive enough-his budget couldn't handle it if he needed that many bandages and aspirins again. Looking down at the package, another idea crawled into his head again.

"_Ding-dong ditch, only with an envelope and knocking! The perfect plan! Why hadn't I thought of that before?"_ He thought to himself, an air of excitement surrounding him. As he prepared to knock on the door and drop the package, the door in front of him was torn open, replaced by an angry blue-haired woman standing over him.

"Where can a fool like that coffee boy be? I called him over a half an hour ago…" The rest of the sentence died in her throat as she looked down at the crouching detective. A burning hatred filled her eyes almost instantaneously. He could only look back up into them, feeling as if he had been caught like a child trying to steal a game from a store.

"M-Ms. von K-Karma…" He stammered. Struggling to get up, he tripped on his own green jacket and fell over backwards on the plush red carpet. Instead of a hand to help him get up, Gumshoe was instead met with a harsh whip blow to the chest.

"What are you doing crouching outside my office, fool? Trying to eavesdrop on me? Are you really that _stupid_ as to try to listen to me through a solid oak door?" Her sentences were separated by a whip crack to various parts of his torso.

"N-No, Ms. von Karma, I was just delivering a package-" Looking around, he almost had a mini panic attack before realizing that the envelope in question he was holding. He held it up, offering it to her. Franziska ripped it from his shaking hands, quickly reading the front before marching back into her office. Gumshoe quickly got up before being met with yet another strong blow from her whip.

"In. Now."

He quickly scurried into the office, standing just inside the doorway. A quick glare from Franziska prompted him to shut the door and sit on the plain red couch. As soon as he had done these two things, he mentally cursed himself. By closing the door, he had effectively cut off his only route of escape other than jumping out the window on the back wall and landing 6 stories down. While he attempted to steel himself for the inevitable beating that was to come and distract himself from the fear that was building up inside him, the detective looked around at the grand office.

The right and left walls were floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, each nearly full of law books in both English and German. The back wall was a window, with blinds that were tightly closed.

"_I bet that window gives a great view of downtown LA…"_ He thought to himself.



The wall behind him, from what he had seen of the office before, was completely bare. It was the only indication as to what the actual wall color was-a warm tan color. The floor was almost completely covered in an intricately woven red rug, on which were Franziska's desk and the couch he was sitting on. The desk was made out of maple, and was polished enough to reflect the light from the ceiling lamp. The desk, while filled with various papers and files, was still tidier than every single detective's desk he had ever seen-_"Of course it is, seeing as how it's Ms. von Karma's desk,"_ The detective thought to himself.

"Why are you staring at my desk?"

Franziska's sharp voice brought him back to reality. Shaking his head slightly, he looked up at his boss, and immediately regretted doing so. The furious look she was giving him was both bone chilling and enticing at the same time.

"Um…I d-don't know, Ms. von Karma."

"Then stop doing it, fool!" She whipped him yet again, forcing his head back down to the floor. Minutes passed by in a tense silence, as his natural instinct for self-preservation both told him to run and to stay. Finally, Franziska's voice broke through the silence.

"What sort of foolish thing would compel you to do what you did?" She asked harshly, not even looking up.

"It was A-April Fools D-Day, sir." He replied.

"What is this foolish 'April Fools Day'? Some sort of foolish American holiday, like 'Valentine's Day' or 'Halloween'?" She barked.

"It's, uh, a day where p-people play pranks on each other. For…er, for fun." Franziska's attention was now solely focused on him. He could swear that the intensity of the look she was giving him was raising the temperature.

"'Play pranks'? 'For fun'?" She slammed her hands down on her desk, resulting in several folders full of papers falling off her desk. "This is an establishment of law enforcement, not a foolish daycare or foolish 7-year-olds!

Gumshoe could only stare at the floor, praying that his punishment would be given to him swiftly. However, as the next few minutes passed once again in silence, the detective realized that this meeting would not be quick or painless. Franziska once again broke the silence in the room.

"Do you know what you delivered to me?"

"Um…I think it was some sort of paperwork." The detective shakily replied.

"What type of paperwork?"

"It was…" He paused for a moment. "Some sort of transportation paperwork. For family and workers."

"Have I told you I have a niece?"

"No…" He had not had any desire to ask Ms. von Karma about her family, and was still reluctant to do so.

"I do. Her picture is right there." She pointed to a small end table the detective hadn't noticed in his scan of the room. On the table, there was only an ornate silver frame. He shifted a bit to see the picture better, and what he saw nearly made him fall off the couch. The little girl in the photo looked almost exactly like Franziska. The only differences were the hair, which was the same color only much longer and curlier, and the clothes, which were the exact same style but with a different color scheme.

"She…she looks a lot like you, sir."

"I know." Even though she was once again bent over her desk filling out paperwork, he could still see a small smirk appear on Franziska's face for a moment.

"Her name is Annabel, and she will be coming from Germany on the 20th." Franziska continued. "She will be staying until the 25th, at which time she will depart for Germany again."

"Ok…" Gumshoe replied, unsure as of whether or not it was the right time to say something. He soon learned, after a whip blow landed squarely in his chest, that it was not.

"Silence, fool! I am not done talking yet!" She roared. He shrinked back into the couch a bit.

"Seeing as how _this_," She gestured at the pulled blinds behind her in disgust, "is where she's going to be for two entire days, I want her to be protected at all times. From the moment she leaves the runway in Germany until the moment she touches down there again, I want someone to be with her. I will _not_ allow her to be harmed in this hellhole if it is the last thing I do."

The detective was starting to see where he was factoring into all of this, and was liking it less and less.

"While I could easily get trained bodyguards for trip, and have offered to do so, my sister has informed me that I am 'being overprotective'. This comment, and the fact that having two or three body guards follow her for two days would be expensive-even for me-led me to my current option. While I am…_reluctant_ to do this-" distaste was evident in her voice. "-I am assigning you to be her police escort. This task will replace all your cases from midnight on the 14th to midnight on the 18th. It will also serve as your punishment." Before he could get a sound out of his already open mouth, Franziska added, "You will not get overtime. You will protect Annabel at all costs and at all times. This should be an easy task-after all, you have been trained in the use of a gun and she is only seven. I have already attained a temporary international 'License to Kill' for you for those dates. If anyone that you do not recognize tries to touch or harm Annabel, you are ordered to shoot to kill. Listen to me, Dick Gumshoe."

From the deadly serious tone Franziska's voice had taken on to the look that was on her face, the detective could tell that she absolutely expected him to shoot anyone that came near him. Whatever color was left in his face quickly drained out at this comprehension.

"I know first-hand that you can barely walk and think at the same time. I know that you often do incredibly foolish things for no apparent reason-yesterday being a prime example. So let me tell you this-if any single part of her is harmed under your supervision, I _will_ hunt you down and make your life more of a living nightmare than you could even have imagined. DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?" She demanded. He furiously nodded until she started talking again.

"You will leave at 5:30 AM on the 14th. Be ready. Get out of my office."

"Yessir." Almost tripping over himself to get out, he quickly and clumsily slipped out the door. Nearly falling onto the carpet, he let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Even though the fact he would be stuck with a seven year old for four days straight couldn't dampen his happiness of being out of Franziska's office. Reaching into his pocket to get out a piece of gum to quell his leftover fear from being in there almost an hour, his hand brushed against a worn leather handle. All of a sudden, he remembered that he had completely forgotten to give Franziska her whip back when he was dragged into her office. The detective slowly turned to look at the door, wondering if the ding dong ditch idea would be helpful now.

"GRAAAAAAHHHHHH!" A terrible yell came from behind the door. "I swear that the next person that knocks on my door is going to get a face full of whip, those FOOLS!"

"_I don't think now's a great time…"_ Gumshoe thought to himself as he quickly shuffled off, still able to hear Franziska shout at what seemed to be a coffee boy.


	3. Chapter 3

**April 20****th****, 3:45 AM**

**LAX Airport**

**International Departures**

Detective Gumshoe had been sitting in the waiting area for nearly 2 hours now, struggling to stay awake. His morning hadn't been going so well, ever since he had woken up with a furious Franziska shouting in his ear through the phone to the drilling he was receiving from her at the moment.

"Detective!" A sharp whip lash woke him up from his reverie. "Recite the first part of the flight plan to me! _Now_!"

Even though he risked having yet another welt added to the fine collection he had on his arms and torso already, the detective couldn't keep all the boredom out of his voice as he repeated the plans for the first flight he was taking to New York. After all, they had been going over this ever since he had passed through security. For some reason, Franziska seemed to only acknowledge his tone of voice with an icy glare. As his boss once again started reading off another part of her carefully written out plan, his eyes slid shut. Sleep, it seemed, enjoyed overcoming him in the worst moments…

"I suggest you pay attention, Detective!"

Franziska's harsh voice caused him to wake with a start. He rubbed his eyes, stretched, and yawned before realizing he was being shot the most powerful death glare in his life.

"Ah…M-Ms. von Karma, sir...um." His eyes darted back and forth between the blue eyes of death staring down at him and the gloved hand that was twitching right above the whip. A long and incoherent string of babble started to pour out of his mouth-he couldn't even tell if it was excuses, apologies, or pleas to not whip him to death.

"Detective." Instead of resorting to her whip, Franziska slapped the blathering man across his face with the back of her hand. "Be quiet and pay attention. I have no patience for your foolish drivel this morning."

Gumshoe stopped speaking as soon as he felt the smooth leather meet his cheek, instead opting for a shocked, taken aback look. He had been beaten to a pulp by the wretched piece of leather that Franziska carried around-a few different times, in fact. But that was it. That was the only physical contact they had ever made. Needless to say, the slap he had just received unnerved him greatly. Luckily, before either of them could do anything, a tinny female voice came through the speaker on the ceiling.

"Flight 3657 to New York is now boarding. Would all the first-class passengers please come to the gate?"

He didn't know whether he should be glad or fearful that his flight was being boarded. Getting up, the detective collected his bag and got in line with the rest of the first class passengers-something that normally wouldn't have happened but did, due to the vicious weapon that his boss enjoyed carrying around. The line seemed to move amazingly slowly, causing a nervous sweat to develop on the detective's forehead and palms. As he passed his ticket to the exhausted woman in a blue dress across from him and finally went through the gate, he stole one last glance at his boss. To his surprise, Franziska had a small, wicked grin on her face instead of the scowl that seemed to be on it most of the time.

"_I wonder what she's grinning about. She only grins like that when something bad happens to me…"_ Exhaustion prevented Gumshoe from pondering this point further. It seemed as if his body had it in for the poor man.

**April 20****th****, 8:47 AM**

**John F. Kennedy Airport**

**International Departures**



Detective Gumshoe buried his face in his hands for the twelfth time since he had left LAX. The man next to him, Bob Heart, ignored this and rattled on about his supposedly amazing camera, oblivious the fact that his audience had completely lost interest in the device about five and a half hours ago.

"…And ya see this here lens? It can get a picture through _any_ tinted window. It's been quite a handy little thing 'round LA with all the famous people, lemme tell you! Put me way ahead of the other paparazzi in the biz-"

"Hey!" Gumshoe had finally reached his limit. Some things a man just _couldn't_ sit through for six hours. "Don't…don't you have somewhere to go, pal?"

The man stared at him blankly.

"Like…a ride, or something? Is someone picking you up?"

"That's…a very good question…" Bob looked up at the clock hanging on the wall opposite from them. "I'm not sure if my sister's here yet or not-"

"Perhaps you should go check, pal." _"Take the hint, take the hint…"_

"Well…" Bob seemed reluctant to leave.

"Take it from me. Women don't like to be kept waiting." The detective was ready to shove the man out of the airport if need be.

"I guess I_ should_ check. Well…" Standing up, the man extended a hairy arm towards Gumshoe. After staring at the hand for a few seconds, the detective shook it. "It's sure been nice talkin' to ya, bub. I don't know many people that can handle that much technical jargon, but you seemed to get through it pretty well."

"I tried my best, pal." This was the one of the truest statements he had made to Bob throughout their time together. As he walked off, Bob turned around and waved. Returning the wave, the detective sighed. Some things, he really could never understand. Such as how you can talk to someone for nearly six hours straight and not ask their name…

**April 20****th****, 12:17 PM**

**Munich Airport**

**International Arrivals**

The detective walked around the arrival area once again, clenching his teeth in frustration. He had been searching for Annabel and her mother since he had gotten off the plane 15 minutes ago, and hadn't found a trace of them.

"_This really can't be _this_ hard…"_ He thought to himself as he stopped in front of the arrivals and departures board and looked down at the picture of the small girl Franziska had given him. He twitched slightly in shock-even though he had looked at it more than a dozen times in the last 20 minutes, it still surprised him whenever he saw how much the little girl looked like his whip-yielding boss. Gumshoe could only hope that Annabel wouldn't be as violent as her aunt…

"Oof!" He made a small noise when a lady ran into him from behind with surprising force. He fell to the ground, nearly crushing the picture in the process.

"I'm so sorry, sir!" A melodic female voice seemed to be directed at him. He groaned as he got up, the woman repeatedly apologizing. Rebuffing the slender hands that were offering to help him, he tried to turn and look at the person that the hands were connected to. However, as he was doing this, two small hands pushed him in his back. Normally, this wouldn't have been a problem. But since Gumshoe was off-balance from the fall he had just taken, this caused him to fall down again on the carpeted floor.

"You moron!" A shrill voice yelled at him. Even though his thick trench coat and shirt, he could feel small, powerful hits on his lower back and the back of his thighs. "Stupidly running into Mama like that-"

"Annabel!" Still struggling to stop the incessant pounding on his lower body, the detective rolled over and attempted to get up. He was stopped, however, by a small girl that jumped on his chest.

"Annabel, stop it right now! You know that you shouldn't hit strangers!" The melodic voice was now yelling at the small girl that kneeled on the detective's chest, sending slap after slap to the helpless man's face.

"_Why am I just sitting here, letting this girl hit me like this-!"_ He struggled against her, with no success. He couldn't very well throw her off him-child abuse in a foreign country was never a good charge to have against you. Suddenly, the slapping ceased and the weight disappeared off of him. Jumping up, he tensed himself for any other physical attacks that were possibly coming.

"Annabel, what have I told you about attacking people?" A stern tone had crept into the otherwise melodic voice.

"But Mama!" The shrill voice whined in reply. "That idiot ran into you! I had to do something-he couldn't just walk off and get away with being so thoughtlessly _rude_!"

"He didn't run into me, Annabel. I ran into him."

"Had he not been standing there, gawking at like the foolhardy American he most likely is at some photograph, you wouldn't have had the misfortune of touching him-"

The two continued to bicker. The detective stood and listened for a moment more (like many of the people that had gathered around the three) until something in his brain clicked.

"_Wait…Annabel…?"_ Hurriedly patting down his jacket for the picture to compare with the little girl in front of him, he realized it was still in his hand. After comparing the picture with her for a moment, a wide grin broke out on his face.

"Annabel!" The girl and her mother both looked at him.

"How do you know my name, dim-witted foreigner?" Annabel spat at him, contempt sparkling in her eyes. Her mother, however, just looked at him for a moment before a look of realization replaced the one of confusion.

"You are Detective…Gumtree, was it? The one here to pick up Annabel?"

"Ah, Gumshoe. Detective Dick Gumshoe of the Los Angeles Police Department. And yes, I am here to pick up your daughter." He smiled at the woman.

"Pick me up? Wait." Annabel's voice commanded attention. "Mama, we came to the airport so that this brainless man could pick me up and take me somewhere?"

"Yes, Annabel. I'm terribly sorry about this, Detective. My daughter can be a bit…rough sometimes."

"No problem at all, pal."

"I suppose I should introduce myself, then. My name is Heidi. What a pleasure to meet you." Extending her hand, Heidi smiled at Gumshoe. She was about 5'4'', and was in every way the opposite of her sister. Instead of having blue hair and pale white skin, she had blond hair and was tanned; instead of professional, serious clothing, she had on a casual jacket and skirt; instead of cold, deadly eyes that seemed to criticize the world around her, there was a warmth and curiosity in them that the detective didn't think possible of the von Karma family. He almost sighed in relief that at least one member of the family seemed human.

"It's very nice to meet you to, Ms. von Karma."

She smiled at him with a tenderness that seemed to put yet another barrier between her and her kin.

"Please, Detective. There's no need for such formality...after all, it's not as if this is my job."

"Um…I'm sorry, pal. It's just that's what the other Ms. von Karma-my boss-told me to address you by…" Something that he made sure to do, after having it whipped into his brain about a dozen times. However, the mention of her sister seemed to make Heidi's smile shrink very noticeably.

"Right. Franziska…yes. I haven't seen her in years…how's she doing?"

"Well…she works as a prosecutor most of the time. I can't say much about her personal life, though. I don't know much about it."

"Yes. I suppose I should've expected that. Franziska's never been very open with people, especially those who work for her…"

"Mama, I'm not going on a plane with that walking disaster. I'd rather jump off the plane itself." Annabel's commanding voice reminded the two that they were in an airport and had a very angry child standing there, being ignored. "Besides, Mama-you know Auntie Franziska. She obviously had a good reason to tell him to address you properly. Most likely because the ignoramus wouldn't have remembered himself."

"_I don't think they should let kids have access to thesauruses this easily…"_ Gumshoe thought to himself with a tinge of unhappiness. At least with Franziska he could keep track of how many 'fools' she used when insulting him. However, after his little beating, the detective wasn't about to screw up again with the dangerous girl.

"You. Kneel. Now." Annabel barked at him.

"Annabel, there's no need to be so rude to Detective Gumshoe-"

"No, no. It's fine." _"I'm used to it from your sister."_ Kneeling down, Gumshoe made sure to maintain eye contact. If he had learned one thing from his experience with the rest of the von Karma family (which Annabel seemed content to throw herself into), weakness was not tolerated at all.

"Detective. You had better make sure not to lose me. Or I'll find you again and beat you down with a stick." Annabel's glare grew more intense.

"_She doesn't only _look_ like Franziska, she sure acts like her, too. I hope that doesn't turn out to be a bad thing…"_ He thought to himself.

"Ms. von Karma, I promise. I won't lose you." His mock salute didn't do much to affect the look of hatred on the small girl's face.

"You'd better know that I'm not joking."

"I believe you, 100 percent."

This, at least, seemed to lighten Annabel's face a bit, for an evil grin replaced the sneer.

"It's nice to see that you respond well to threats, dog. A good skill to learn when around a von Karma." She aimed two sharp kicks at the detective's unprotected shins. This girl-that seemed to happily take on the family values of dominance and cruelty-not violent against him? There wasn't a chance of that in the world.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer**-All PW characters mentioned don't belong to me. This applies to the entire story, as well. Just to cover chpts. 2 and 3.

**A/N**-This chapter is dedicated to all the people that have reviewed so far. Seriously-I appreciate every single one so much it's not even funny.

**--**

**April 20****th****, 5:30 PM**

**Flight 725A**

**Row 1A**

If there was any doubt in Detective Gumshoe's mind of the existence of karma, it had to be completely erased by now.

His first meeting with Annabel was an unprecedented disaster-he hadn't expected such high levels of physical violence from such a small girl. Nor did he expect her to be able to exude this much hatred towards him. She truly was her aunt's niece.

"I want cookies." This demand wasn't new to the detective at all-she had been saying the same thing for the last two hours.

"I don't have any."

"Get some."

"I can't…"

"Idiot. Can't even get a bag of _cookies_…it's a surprise Aunty Franziska puts up with you."

"_How did I not see this coming…?" _He wondered to himself in exasperation. _"The looks should've been enough warning…"_

"Gumchew."

"Gumshoe."

"I don't care." Angry eyes met his. "What exactly are you doing here?"

"Escorting you to LA, where Ms. von Karma is."  
"I'm not stupid, y'know. I figured that out when Mama told me." Annabel smacked him on his left arm for the umpteenth time, causing Gumshoe to wince slightly. The child managed to repeatedly hit him directly on his bruises. Aim seemed to be a common trait among the von Karma family women. "I mean, why did Aunty send _you_, of all people, to pick me up? It's not like you radiate some sort of trustworthy aura or anything."

"_I radiate a very strong trustworthy aura, thank you very much. I wouldn't have been hired as a detective otherwise."_

"Well…" He tried to think back to what Franziska's reasoning was. Enough had happened since their meeting that he couldn't really remember very well, so he threw out the best guess he had. "I suppose it was some sort of punishment-"

"WHAT?!"

Annabel jumped up onto her seat as she exclaimed this.

"What do you mean some sort of _punishment_?!"

"Wait, wait, wait…did I say punishment? I-I meant to say…uh…vacation! Yeah, vacation!" His scrambling didn't seem to be very convincing for the girl, as rage still seemed to flood through her.

"You liar! I can't believe that Aunty Franziska would send you out to get me as a punishment!"

"Excuse me, could you two please keep it down?" A woman sitting directly behind them had poked her head through the seats-a very, very bad move on her part.

"Shut up, you dim-witted fool!" Out of nowhere, a small hand struck the woman in the face, knocking her head against the seat to her right.

"Annabel! You can't hit people like that-"

"I can do whatever I damned well like! I'm a von Karma!"

"Don't say damn!" Gumshoe could feel what little self control of the enraged child that he had quickly slipping away.

"Damn damn damn! You want me to throw some other words in there?"

"Sir! Control that child of yours!" The flight attendant had now rushed over, and the entire first class cabin was looking at the two in shock.



"She's not my child, pal!"

"How _dare_ you disown me, you buffoon!" Annabel jumped onto the detective's back-not an easy feat for someone so small. The girl now had him in a chokehold, causing him to start thrashing around. Small, tiny black dots were appearing in his vision as his oxygen supply started to dwindle.

"A-Annabel-!"

People were now trying to get the small, dangerous child off him.

"_All…black…can't…feel…" _Fear started to well up inside of him. He had expected violence, yes, but this situation completely threw him off. Dying wasn't very high up in his agenda. Finally, the vice like grip around his throat was released-just in time, too, considering that he almost passed out from lack of air. The detective fell to the ground, gasping. His surroundings came back to him slowly, and with gaps. It seemed that one minute, he was on the ground, face to face with the other passengers' feet, and the next he was up in his chair, a male flight attendant looking at him with worried eyes and asking him if he was ok. He nodded, trying to make sense of what had happened. Something seemed to be coming out of his mouth-words, maybe-but he couldn't understand what it was. They all gave him incomprehensible answers, overloading the small part of his brain that was working. Giving in to what he wanted to do since he woke up this morning, he slowly slid his eyes closed, ignoring the small part of his mind that kept telling him to find something…

**March 20****th****, 7:38 PM**

**LAX Airport**

**First Class Cabin**

"Sir? Sir?"

A low groan escaped Gumshoe's lips as he woke from his perfect nap to see a young man shaking his shoulder, trying to get him up. Surprisingly, he had slept the entire way through the rest of the flight from New York.

"Wha…?"

"Sir, the plane's landed in LA."

"_LA…home. Finally…"_ He stretched out, stifling his yawn. He couldn't wait to get home and have some ramen.

"Glad to see you're doing alright after that crazy girl attacked you, sir."

"_Crazy…girl?"_ The events of the flight rushed back to him mid stretch. _"Oh, right. He's talking about when Annabel attacked and almost killed…"_

"Oh my-WHERE'S ANNABEL?!"

"…Who? What?" Confusion was plastered on the stranger's face as he took a step back. Gumshoe was flailing around wildly, trying to find the child that had nearly killed him.

"The-the girl! The girl that was attacking me!"

"Oh…well, after we got her calmed down, she sat with some lady, who gave her cookies. After we landed, she rushed out as soon as she could, carrying her bag-"

Gumshoe never heard the end of the sentence, instead opting to rush out of the nearly empty cabin.

"_If I don't come back with Annabel…I need to find her. Now."_ The consequences for not coming back to Franziska without Annabel would surely be worse than death. However, luck seemed to both love and curse him as a small foot reached out and tripped the detective as he exited the small hallway leading from the plane. For the fourth time today, he fell down to meet the generic airport carpet.

"Ugh…" He moaned in pain, attempting to get up. He was stopped by a sharp hit to the center of his back. Whatever hit him was accurate enough to strike a nerve, causing him to collapse in pain again.

"Argh! Ow!"

"That's what you get, idiot."

Time seemed to stop in its tracks.

"_That voice…"_

"Annabel? Is that you?"

"Good guess." Another hit fell on his back in acknowledgement at his answer. Positive acknowledgement, if he was lucky.

"Good. That's fantastic…" the detective clambered to his feet, looking down at the small girl. Unfortunately, he couldn't do that, because he was two very familiar looking boots that grabbed his attention. Following them up, it lead to the one face that he would've given his entire ramen collection to not see.

"M-Ms. von K-Karma…" Fear seized him. _"Did I make it out before she got to Annabel? Oh god…I…oh no. Is she going to kill me? No, there's too many witnesses…"_

"Fool." An amazingly strong hit from her whip struck him in the ribs, taking him out of his worried thoughts quickly. Apparently, he hadn't gotten out in time. Yet again, he fell down, this time landing on his right side. Annabel's evilly grinning face, Franziska's boots, and the random thought of how lucky he was to have some sort of long, leathery thing in his coat pocket to shield the full force of the whip blow drowned out all the other things in the busy airport.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer-**Detective Gumshoe/Franziska von Karma don't belong to me. Too bad...

**--**

**April 24****th****, 11:03 AM**

**Gourd Lake**

Before meeting Annabel von Karma, the term 'personal slave' hadn't really meant much to Detective Gumshoe. After meeting the child and learning that he would be becoming her personal slave for five days, it carried new oceans of meaning. It meant that there would be unlimited piggyback rides, hours of jump roping, and swimming fifteen feet through frigid water to play 'see how far you can throw the ball'.

"Gosh, Scruffy, that water sure looked cold." The detective, clambering out of the frigid water, cursed whatever inspiration had led to his 'nickname'. "You're getting better at retrieving it, though. But I'm tired of playing with you now. I just want to play with the ball now."

"Yes sir." He offered the wet ball to the child, receiving only a disgusted look from her.

"You can't expect me to play with that wet, slippery thing, Scruffy. Dry it off."

He looked down at his dripping wet tie, dress shirt, and black slacks, and resisted the incredibly strong urge to reply with "dry it off yourself", a comment that would undoubtedly earn him his third kick to the shins this morning. Although there wasn't anything around to dry ball off with-the only food stand that was opened had conveniently run out of napkins the day before.

"Um, what would you like me to dry it off with, sir?"

At this question, the already wide grin grew (impossibly) wider on Annabel's face.

"Well, how 'bout your nice, dry coat over there?" She pointed at the green trench coat he had thrown aside before jumping into the lake.

"_Of course. Take away the one dry, warm thing that I was looking forward to putting on."_

There wasn't any room to object, though. Not with a von Karma. So the detective once again obediently marched over to his dry coat, picked it up, and started to dry off Annabel's precious ball.

"It sure is nice to have my own personal slave. Especially one so…_secretive_." The small girl had hopped up onto the bench by him and sat down. "I don't think I've ever seen someone so dull-witted hide so many things."

"First time for everything, sir."

This prompted a violent slap from her.

"I don't like your tone, Scruffy."

"Sorry, sir. Your ball's dry." He offered her the ball, which she snatched from his hands and inspected.

"Hm…well, it certainly isn't amazing…but it's adequate." She hopped off the bench at the same time that the detective collapsed on it. He still didn't have much feeling in his arms or chest because of the freezing water, and still wasn't anywhere near being dry, but there was a certain joy that was in him. It took a minute for him to realize that the joy was from the fact that his punishment and personal slave status would be ending at 6:00 AM tomorrow. A grin appeared on his face before being wiped out by a hit to the stomach.

"I've decided what I want to play, Scruffy. Dodgeball!"

**April 24****th****, 1:00 PM**

**Prosecutors Office**

**Down the hall from Ms. von Karma's Office**

"Hurry up, Scruffy! I want to see Aunty Franziska!"

Gumshoe was leaning against the wall, panting. He had just run up all twenty-one flights of stairs to Franziska's office with Annabel on his back, pounding him to go faster.

"A…minute…sir…" He gasped out between pants.

"No minute! C'mon!" She grabbed his hand and dragged him down the hall.

This had been their after lunch ritual for the past three days that the detective had been with Annabel-every day, at 1:00 PM, he was to drop the girl off to Franziska for an hour for some sort of together time between aunt and niece. It was also known as 'The Holy Hour' around the Criminal Affairs Department-it was an hour that the blue-haired demon wasn't terrorizing the detectives or officers that worked around the place. Gumshoe hadn't ever seen Annabel this happy to go to Franziska's office in all the time she'd been here, though. A red flag went up (and was ignored) in the back of his mind.

After what seemed like an eternity, the impatient girl and the exhausted detective reached the familiar polished wooden door and brass plaque that adorned it. Annabel knocked three times, and within five seconds the door opened and a smirking Franziska replaced it.

"Almost late, Scruffy. Hello, Annabel."



The child nearly jumped into her aunt's arms, leaving the gasping Gumshoe behind her on the carpet. He didn't expect to get off so easily, though, and was right-a sharp heel poked him right in between his shoulder blades, causing him to collapse onto the ground.

"Get up and come in. I have something to say to you."

With much difficulty, he got himself up on his feet and stumbled into the office. Franziska went and sat down, Annabel and all, in her chair behind her desk. The detective buckled onto the couch. The three simply sat there for a minute in total silence before Franziska spoke.  
"To say I am surprised would be an understatement, Detective."

"_What did I do now…?"_

"I honestly didn't expect you to be so on top of things when Annabel was here."

This comment was enough to snap his head up at the prosecutor.

"On…top of things?"

"Yes. You not only managed to follow my schedule exactly, but Annabel seems far happier than I've seen her in a long time."

"Oh yes, Aunty Franziska. It was a…_pleasure_ to have Scruffy as my personal slave for three days, even if he is a hopeless fool."

He was staring, dumbfounded, at the two von Karmas. Not in a million years did he expect to be complimented by either of them.

"So…"

"Consider your punishment fulfilled, Detective. That is, as long as nothing goes wrong for the rest of Annabel's visit."

It was all he could do to not jump up and run out of the room with excitement.

"I…this…is…I don't know exactly what to say, sir…except thank you so much. It's been a real pleasure to be Annabel's…er, assistant," _"when I wasn't around her," _"and I…"

"Stop your blabbering, Detective." Franziska glared at him. "It's not like I'm sparing you from the firing squad."

"_That's what you think."_

"Anyways, you are excused for an hour. Go away."

Gumshoe was about to get up before Annabel's shrill voice stopped him.

"Wait, Scruffy! Don't go yet! I have something to show Aunty Franziska and I would _hate_ for you to miss it!"

He looked at Franziska for an indication of whether to leave or not.

"Sit."

He obviously wasn't going to get off that easily.

"So, Aunty Franziska…this morning, Scruffy and I were at Gourd Lake. I was playing with my rubber ball when I kicked it too hard and it went sailing into the lake." The small girl made a 'whooshing' sound to represent the ball 'accidentally' flying into the lake. "So I sent Scruffy to go get it, and while I was waiting for him to come back-he was being really slow-I saw something very familiar in his coat pocket."

This was sounding worse and worse by the second to the detective. A fine sweat started to coat the back of his neck.

"And you know what I found, Aunty?" Annabel looked directly at the detective while she was pulling out the very familiar object that she was talking about.

"I found your whip."

Time stopped in its tracks.

The smooth, deadly whip was now resting in Annabel's hands. Franziska wasn't the only one staring at it with complete surprise on her face-the detective was gaping at it as well, his mouth hanging comically open. Unable to believe it, he patted the pocket that he thought he had the whip in. It wasn't there, of course.

"I just thought you'd like to get 'Whippy' back, Aunty."

Still in shock, Franziska took the whip out of her smirking niece's hands. After a second of holding it in her hands, the prosecutor's fist tightened around it. She began to shake.

"Annabel," Franziska said through clenched teeth, "please go outside."

"Okay…" Obediently but sadly, the small girl hopped off her aunt's lap. While she was passing by the now shivering detective, her evil smirk grew wider and she stopped by him for just a second.

"Just a little 'going away' present, Scruffy. So you won't forget me."

He didn't even notice the kick she sent towards his shins, too transfixed by the rage and fury in Franziska's eyes that was, undoubtedly, going to be released any second.

--

**A/N**-The last chapter will almost certainly be the last one. I hope you've all enjoyed the story up to this point, even those of you who haven't ben reading it for very long. And, as always, all reviews are absolutely, positively adored. :D


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N**—I know next to nothing about medical terminology and procedures, and apologize in advance if the scene involving it is really, really inaccurate. And Gumshoe totally takes the bus, since his car never really got fixed from its unfortunate accident in 2-4. (The department takes pity on him and gives him free bus ride passes every once in a while.)

And thanks to DeejaVu for reminding me of a too good to pass up Gumshoe abuse point.

**Disclaimer**—Detective Gumshoe, Franziska von Karma, Phoenix (the dog), and the Hotti Clinic © Capcom. Annabel could be split down the middle, because while the games mention her, I fleshed out the personality.

**April 25****th****, 1:10 AM**

**Hotti Clinic**

**Room 103**

There were certain things that people enjoyed waking up to. The smell of hot food, a gentle nudge by a loved one, the soothing sounds of nature through a window or specialized alarm clock. Detective Gumshoe, at best, got a form of the last one a few times a year—and it was never "soothing" as much as it was a loud bird screeching outside his apartment at six in the morning. However, he still knew enough about pleasant morning wake ups to know which ones were good and which ones were bad.

Waking up in a bed with several people starting at you intensely was most definitely _bad_ in his book.

"Oh, good, he's awake. Rhonda, get the syringe."

The detective blinked in confusion and was about to ask several questions on his surroundings and condition when a gigantic wave of pain hit him like a brick wall. Had he been standing, he would've doubled over and fell to the floor; as it was, though, he was propped up in the bed and simply slouched over, groaning loudly. The pain was all consuming, and made the world outside his body a blur—he could hear the first voice harshly repeat the instruction to get the syringe, could smell the strong perfume of a woman standing next to him, and feel the same woman try to wrestle his arm down to insert the needle, but he didn't fully recognize what was going on because all he could focus on were the sharp pains in some areas and the powerful soreness everywhere. It took a couple minutes, but Gumshoe was able to put his right arm down and lean back long enough for the syringe to be inserted into a vein.

"Mr. Gumshoe, please, stop squirming!" Two more female nurses stepped forward to help restrain the writhing man so their coworker could inject the liquid into his bloodstream. "It'll only take a few minutes for the morphine to spread around your system, but if the needle gets dislodged, it's going to take twice as long!"

He could only manage a moan in response. Although it took all three nurses and a doctor to stop the detective from squirming and dislocating the needle in his arm, the pain killer did eventually get completely injected into his blood stream. At a torturously slow pace, numbness started to change places with the overwhelming pain he felt. While this happened, Gumshoe's focus flickered between the spreading pain relief and the various conversations that were going on around him.

"…and, obviously, he isn't able to concentrate without morphine…"

"Yes, but we can't keep giving him shots whenever he wakes up—his insurance might not cover it all…"

"God, look at those cuts and welts. I don't blame him for passing out in the break room…"

"He'd better have someone to pay, 'cause this is going to get expensive, fast."

"…think that he'll make a full recovery? Those don't heal well clean, and they look infected…"

"Y'know, I remember some crazy whip lady was the one who called this in. Do you think she had anything to do with this, doctor…?"

This statement rung a bell far off in his mind as his consciousness slipped away from him.

**April 26****th****, 12:47 PM**

**Hotti Clinic**

**Room 103**

Bright sunlight flooded through the open window, glinting off various metallic surfaces and making the hospital room glow with a soft heat. It was this combination of heat and light that woke Gumshoe from his sleep. The detective groaned sleepily, stretching his arms slightly and knocking his arm into a pole that was standing by the side of the bed. It fell over with a ringing crash, but he didn't really care about that for two reasons.

The first one was that a pleasant buzz that was over his mind, most likely caused by some sort of drug being fed into his system.

The second one was a rather angry looking blue haired woman standing at the foot of his bed.

"You take _far_ too long to wake up."

Franziska's sharp voice was tinged with more anger and displeasure than Gumshoe had ever heard before from the whip wielding woman. Although his reflexes were slower than usual for him, fear started to infect his mind almost immediately after the sentence ended. He opened his mouth to try and form some sort of coherent reply, but only a pained groan came out—apparently, not exactly what Franziska wanted to hear. Her eyes narrowed and her mouth turned into an even more vicious grimace than what was normally on her face, but—unlike the look usually indicated—no sound of a whip crack came to his ears.

"I wasted twenty minutes of my perfect life waiting for you to wake up. Had it not been for the interest that the hospital has been showing in me lately I would have gone against the nurses' wishes and whipped you awake. Count yourself among the lucky." She sighed, lifting her right hand and leaning it against her forehead. In it was a plain white envelope with writing, several stamps, and a post mark on it. "Apparently, the hospital thinks I had something to do with your…injuries. It would do you well to not mention my name when they start to ask about them. As you know, when I become annoyed—as I will inevitably be if these fools start poking into my life even more—it tends to transfer from me to my subordinates."

He gulped audibly. Franziska grinned, although it wasn't as much a humored expression as it was a predatory one.

"In any case, I trust you will be able to have enough sense to keep your mouth shut. And now that I have my _actual_ whip back, instead of some foolish pathetic _plastic_ one…well. Your punishments are going to hurt much, much worse, Scruffy. Oh, and this is for you." The click of high heels on linoleum filled the room as the prosecutor walked over to shove the letter into his trembling hands. "Annabel wanted to mail it here, but the hospital refused to take it, so I was forced to bring you her letter."

She exited the room, stopping at the doorway to shoot one more warning glare before shoving several nurses out of the way and stalking down the hall. There were several thoughts going through his head—most of them revolving around how legal that warning from Franziska was (it reminded him of a blackmail case the homicide department worked on a few years ago, which shot up red flags immediately)—but they were pushed to the back of his mind as he looked down at Annabel's letter.

On the plain white, slightly crumpled envelope, impeccable black handwriting clearly addressed it to Dick Gumshoe, Room 103, Hotti Clinic, Los Angeles, California, as well as a return address in Germany. Several stamps adorned the upper right hand corner of the envelope, as well as a postage mark. Flipping it over, he saw that the back was completely blank. Slowly, Gumshoe opened the envelope and shook the contents out.

The letter fell out first and was closest to his hand, so he picked it up and brought it close to his face to read. The handwriting matched the handwriting on the front exactly, almost as if a machine had been writing instead of a seven year old.

_Dear Scruffy,_

_If you're reading this, then I'm surprised you survived. I was listening at the door to the whipping that Auntie Franziska gave you. It certainly _sounded _like you were going to die. But whatever, that's not what I'm writing to you about._

_The reason I'm writing is that I have something that I'd like to share with you._

The fact that Annabel wanted to share anything with him that wasn't painful was enough to make the detective go back and re-read the sentence several times, just to make sure his pain medication hadn't caused him to start hallucinating. However, after he read them again three times, they were still the same, so he moved on.

_What I have to share with you, though, is not just one thing. It's two things. You see, when I was going through your jacket on the day you took me to that stupid lake, I didn't just find the whip. I actually found something else that surprised me._

_You don't look like a rich man, Scruffy. You don't smell like one, either. In fact, a point could be made that you look/smell more like a lower middle class chauffeur after a long night with various different drunken fools demanding to ride in the front seat. But I never imagined—for whatever reason, since it really isn't that out of character for you—that you would be so low as to carry around so much food in your _jacket_, of all places._

_Honestly, a servant to the von Karma family should be higher than stuffing their pockets with whatever measly sustenance they can get their hands on._

After reading up to this point, Gumshoe had to stop for a moment. His mind worked through the sluggish cloud that his drugs put on it to process all he had read from the letter. Despite his best efforts, though, he couldn't directly remember having any abnormal amounts of food in his jacket pockets, so he decided to retrace the day as best he could.

"Ok, let's see…the morning of the Gourd Lake Discovery, what did I do? I woke up, I showered, I got my clothes on for the day and had breakfast…"

The breakfast part seemed particularly blurry in his mind, so he thought very hard about that specific time period. Then it occurred to him—he _hadn't_ had breakfast that day. His alarm clock, unbeknownst to him, had reset itself during a random blackout in the middle of the night, so the detective had woken up only ten minutes before his bus was due to leave. This had caused him to be in a frantic rush, grabbing random essential things and shoving them in his coat pockets.

"Well, what do I do on a day when I don't get breakfast?" He asked himself. "I usually get a few things of ramen to heat up at work so the vendor near the police department doesn't get me with his high prices…"

It all clicked into place at that moment.

That day, instead of just grabbing two ramen, like he usually did on missed breakfast days, he had put his entire stash of the dried noodles into his pockets accidentally, due to repeat trips into the kitchen (his keys had gotten misplaced, and the kitchen was usually where he left them) and short term memory issues because of the lack of sleep. He'd noticed on the bus, but by then it was too late to do anything about it, and now Annabel was talking about large amounts of food in his jacket…

_And you know how I feel about things like this, Scruffy. So I threw most of the stuff out in that trash bin near the hot dog stand. But then, right as I was about to throw away the very last package, the label on it caught my eye…"ramen". I didn't really know what that is, so I opened the stuff, and it smelled weird and spicy and looked like long dried worms. So I brought it back to Germany with me—moronic airport security officials tried to take it away from me, but Auntie's Whippy sorted that out—and then my mom told me that it was actually instant noodles. You…make some sort of soup out of it by adding hot water or something like that. I tried it._

_I don't think I've eaten a worse thing in my life, Scruffy._

_So I gave the rest to Phoenix, my dog. He ate the stuff up really quickly, noodles and all. I'm writing this letter to you a few hours after he ate it, and he hasn't thrown it up, which is surprising. The dog must be used to your American food. (Most of the stuff is fit for dogs to eat anyways, so I guess I shouldn't be _that_ surprised.)_

_Anyways, the two things I wanted to share with you—a photo of Phoenix with the bowl of noodles (post-eating) and the wrapper from the package. I thought they'd "brighten up" the hospital room that undoubtedly you must be in if you're still alive and reading this._

—_Annabel_

Sure enough, when Gumshoe moved the letter to the right, there was a picture of a brown golden retriever with a wet muzzle and an empty, yellow stained bowl next to its left paw and a wrapper with the words "World's Best Ramen" on it. Slowly, he lifted the wrapper to his nose, sniffing slightly at the inside. The bitter burning taste of the powder that came with the package filled his mouth and nose and made his eyes water.

(Though, really, it probably wasn't just the powder that made his eyes water. After all, his hospital bill—which he just _knew_ wasn't going to be covered by any sort of work insurance, despite him being on the job when he sustained his injuries—was going devour whatever sort of rent money he had saved up. Instant ramen was going to be a thing of the past sooner or later.)

The last thought Gumshoe had before drifting into unconsciousness was how, if it was the last thing he ever did, he would find some way to escape the hell that the majority of the von Karma family seemed so happy putting on him.

---

**A/N**-So it's finally done.

I'm…in shock that I haven't updated this for six months. I mean, yeah, sure, I _knew_ I had been ignoring it for a while, but six months…well.

I'd really like to thank all those that have reviewed, and all those that (hopefully!) will be reviewing. It's really nice to know that people are not only reading my work, but reading it and thinking that it's worth enough of their time to sit down and comment. Everything means something, and I thank you all for it. (_Especially_ with this fic, since it was my first foray into the world of public online fanfiction and has been one of the biggest writing learning experiences I've had.)

I could go on for a while with the _what now_'s and the likes, but…well. That isn't for this moment in time. I'm planning on doing many different things—sadly, though, not in this fandom, but in the Avatar: the Last Airbender fandom (it's kind of a long story)—but I'll probably start talking more of it in my writing journal (burnt_heaven at Live Journal, linked in my profile). Actually, I'm very active on that journal, and a) have anon commenting on and b) will have lots of new fics up on it, so…it may be worthwhile to check out.

It's a bit of a rush, finishing your first multi-chaptered story. I do hope I did the ending justice.


End file.
